


Rivals

by Magnetism_bind



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Begging, Come Marking, Drinking, Light Bondage, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Rivalry, Rough Sex, Scent Kink, Scent Marking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-06-28 14:15:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19813996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: Vane has a rivalry with the new captain in town. It leads to one thing and another.





	Rivals

It all starts because of the damned Guthrie girl. She’s a mischief, and Vane likes a bit of mischief, but he doesn’t need it in his life.

He doesn’t need a rivalry with that flash captain Flint either, but here they are. Rivals. It would have been so much easier to be something else.

Flint’s nothing like any of the other captains in Nassau. Where did he come from? Nobody knows. Vane simply returns one day, flush with his current haul and finds the man drinking in his tavern, Eleanor hanging onto his every word. That alone Vane doesn’t like. Eleanor’s supposed to be looking up to him, but here she is, barely even acknowledging his arrival.

Flint’s got swagger, it’s undeniable, but there’s something about him that Vane can’t figure out and he doesn’t want to either. He just wants Flint to fuck up off to wherever he came from

Unfortunately Flint doesn’t do him the kindness of doing that; instead he settles into Nassau like its his right, digging his boot heels deep into the sand, claiming the island with his stance.

There’s something to admire about him, Vane can admit that. Any man who can make something of himself deserves respect, in his estimate. And Flint did make himself out of nothing, Vane recognizes that when he sees it. The way Flint’s still trying on the role, testing it out, seeing if it will hold when he needs it to, or will he need a backup just in case. Vane wagers he has the backup, ready, in any eventuality. There’s nothing wrong with that strategy, but it’s stronger not to need it.

Vane doesn’t bear a backup. He has a plan and that’s it. When he needs to move forward, he does just that. His own plan is much more straightforward than whatever Flint’s is, underneath his smirks and wry wit.

He’s good. That irks Vane too. The way Flint has about him, people don’t like him, not really, but they want him to like them. To think well of them, to respect them. That’s something Flint’s never going to give them, but there’s nothing so enticing as that you’ll never reach.

* * *

That very first night Vane had settled into his place at his table. His regular place. Eleanor hadn’t given him a glance, even when he’d ordered. But Flint had. Not at first. But when the barmaid had gone up to get his order, he’d leaned back, looked over his shoulder, casual like, but still looking. His gaze had settled on Vane, examining him, head to toe in that in that quick-eyed glance.

Vane had his arm outstretched along the back of his char as he smoked, one leg drawn up, his other arm draped over his knee. Let Flint look. Let him look at the top captain in Nassau. Let him take a good long look at what he was up against. It was only fair, Vane reasoned. A man deserved to know.

He’d turned back to his conversation with Eleanor soon enough.

* * *

They don’t cross each other’s path for the first few days. Vane’s busy, selling the shipload of cargo he came back. He’s still teaching Jack the ropes, Jack’s still green, but he learns quick. He’s been on a ship before, but this is his first time as a quartermaster. Vane thinks he’s up to it (naturally, or he wouldn’t have given Jack the job) but all the same he’s ready for Jack to fit the role, so he can leave this business and turn his attention to what really matters.

Like setting sail again, maybe. Or winning back Eleanor’s attention, which should have been easy enough to do.

Or…seeing what Flint was really made of. That’s what’s really interests him. What’s underneath that coat of Flint’s? What’s he hiding?

* * *

He gets nothing from actually talking to the man. Nothing except a distinct feeling that Flint doesn’t like him, nor think he’s a real threat. And that fucking gets under Vane’s skin. He is a threat, damnit. Flint should have known that in one damn look. It’s obvious to anyone with a brain that Vane is running things in Nassau and yet Flint affords him no courtesy, no civility beyond what is offered to the most base servant, bringing them a bottle of rum.

Captain Hornigold has the decency at least to look abashed when Flint is rude, and the man with Flint, Gates, Vane recalls, rolls his eyes with a weary air.

Flint finished his drink and starts to stand.

Vane reaches across the table, catching his arm by the wrist. He grips it, just hard enough to bruise if Flint should try to pull away. Surprisingly Flint does nothing of the kind. Instead he pauses, letting himself be held there by Vane as they look at each other.

“You heard my name when you first came here.” Vane speaks quietly enough, but he knows Flint is listening. “You know what they say. And yet you think you can walk in here and simply claim the island for yourself.”

Flint gives a little smile as though that amuses him somehow and part of Vane wants to know what he’s said that brought such a smile to the man’s lips. The rest of him doesn’t care.

“Just remember what you heard.” He says, releasing Flint’s wrist at last. “And maybe think twice before you try anything foolish.”

He sits back in his chair and reaches for his cigar.

Flint pauses still, half looking as though he’s simply going to leave. And then he leans down, placing both hands on the table, looking Vane straight in the eye.

“You’re right, I did hear your name spoken when I arrived. And do you know what they said?” The corner of his handsome mouth turned upright into a smirk. “They said you were bringing in disappointing cargos. They said you weren’t the captain you once were. They said…” His eyes sweep over Vane like a tidal wave and Vane feels a rush of heat deep in his groin.

“They said you were done.”

Flint straightens up. “Good day, Captain Vane.” He gives Vane a mock salute and saunters out.

Gates just shakes his head and goes after him, after shaking Hornigold’s and his hands with an apologetic look.

“Well,” Hornigold remarks. “That could have gone better.”

Vane shrugs. He’s not disappointed. It gave him something to work with at least.

* * *

He finds out where Flint stays when he’s in town. It’s a modest little room, the back of a boarding house. There is nothing intimate of the man in the room. He’s brought no women here, that much is evident. A bottle of rum, one tin cup on the dresser. A spare belt lying over the foot of the bed. A book on the bedside table, next to the candlestick. Vane doesn’t look at it. He’s not interested in books.

Flint doesn’t really live here. That much he gathers. He must have somewhere else on the island that he goes to, away from the town, somewhere inland and private. But this will do for no.

Flint may not live here but he sleeps here occasionally and so Vane lies on the bed, letting his clothes press into the sheets, his hair upon the pillow where Flint lays his head at night. He lets his natural scent permeate Flint’s bed and then slowly, lazily, he draws out his cock.

It’s easy enough to stroke himself off, but Vane takes his time. He thinks about how Flint looked that first night in the tavern, the look he gave him when he sized Vane up. And the look today, the way his eyes made Vane’s cock swell.

He closes his eyes, wrapping his fist loosely around his length as he strokes. Idly, he wonders what Flint would be like in bed. If he’s a virgin, it would be a pleasure to be the first, to touch him for the first time, to see how he comes apart. Vane bets he’s pretty when he begs.

There is a prettiness tucked away under Flint’s stern exterior and Vane wants to see it. He wants to touch it with his hands, grip it and hold it and taste it. He wonders what Flint will taste like.

He sighs, nearly inaudible as he comes, letting it spill over the sheets. He wipes his cock with them too, for good measure, leaving the stink of it upon Flint’s bed.

He wonders, as he refastens his belt, what Flint will do in response.

* * *

Flint does nothing for a week. It’s disappointing, Vane admits. Perhaps the man is a coward and he’s no good at facing his enemies. That would be disappointing beyond measure. Vane wants to best him, to piss on his reputation and let the street know he’s not as good as a man, not as good a captain as Vane, but he wants do it fairly. A coward is just that, a coward. There’s no pleasure in beating a coward.

He’s almost forgotten about what he did when he comes back to his room one night. The door is closed, everything’s as he left it, except there’s a lamp lit.

Vane pushes the door open and there he is. Captain Flint, sitting in Vane’s chair, drinking Vane’s rum, waiting for him.

Vane regards him thoughtfully. He could have easily reach his knife, if Flint tries anything. But as Flint gazes back at him, somehow Vane knows he didn’t come for a fight.

Still, it doesn’t mean he won’t get one. It certainly makes the fucking part more exciting.

Flint tips his chair back further, the toe of his boot balancing on the edge of the desk. He gazes coolly up at Vane. “It would appear we have some business to attend to.”

“Does it?” Vane says, unruffled.

He moves to the bottle of rum standing on the bureau. Flint hasn’t touched much of it, he notes. Likes a clear head for the fighting, or fucking, Vane muses.

He pours himself a drink and then holds the bottle out to him.

Flint just sits there a moment. There’s the tiniest bit of a burn in Vane’s jaw. If the man refuses to take it from him, he’ll throw it in his fucking face.

At the last possible moment, Flint rises and walks slowly, insolently across the room towards him. He reaches for the bottle and then, angling his head just a fraction, looks at Vane.

“Is that what you like? Leaving your scent on another man’s bed?”

Vane’s grip tightens on the bottle for a second, before he releases it, forcing Flint to hold his gaze. “It depends.”

“On?”

“I’d rather leave it on the man himself.”

His gaze sweeps over Flint, assessing him in one smooth glance. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t find Flint attractive, but now the thought of fucking him nearly undoes Vane. Having Flint submit to that, under him, would be a sweet victory indeed. He wonders if Flint actually will.

“And what do you offer in return?” Flint’s still close as he sips his rum. “What do you expect from a man who would do that?”

“I’d expect the man to keep his distance from certain young women of our acquaintance.” Vane says. He didn’t plan it, he had no intention of bringing Eleanor into this except she’s wrapped up at the core of it.

Flint blinks like he doesn’t know what the fuck Vane is talking about. And then his brow clears. “ _That’s_ what you want? For me to stay away from Eleanor?” He sounds curious now, half expecting Vane to have some other motive up his sleeve.

“I don’t like the way she looks at you.” Vane says.

There’s a glint in Flint’s eye that promises trouble. “I’m not responsible for how she looks at me.” He takes another sip of rum. The aloof, affronted captain once again.

“Bullshit.” Vane tells him. “If you showed her a scowl once or twice, a few harsh words maybe, she wouldn’t look at you so…”

Flint shrugs. “Still not my fault.”

“Stop it and it won’t be.”

“I know Eleanor.” Flint says. “She has a good head on her shoulders and she’s going to be head of Nassau one day if she can manage it. And I intend to be on her list of captains she trusts when it happens.”

Vane’s still just watching him. Flint intends to be the top of that list if he knows the man at all. “So you’re not looking for anything else from her?”

There’s a dark look he can’t interpret. “No.” Flint says. “Nothing like that. You have my word.”

“I didn’t ask for it.” Vane declares. He feels wrongfooted now, unsure as to why Flint’s here if he’s not going to argue over Eleanor. Maybe he really is here just to fuck.

Why doesn’t the man get on with it then?

Flint takes a long drink of rum, still just looking at him. At last Vane realizes, he’s waiting .

“So…” Vane says.

“So.” Flint mocks.

Vane’s jaw tightens. He downs the rest of his rum and throws the glass at the wall. Flint’s head turns quickly, following the motion as it shatters. At the same moment Vane moves forward.

He gets his hands on Flint’s shirt, shoving him backward up against the wall. Just before Flint can start to struggle, Vane kisses him. He feels the war in Flint, debating whether to fight or fuck, and then Flint leans in, his mouth following Vane’s. Vane grins against his mouth.

“Like that, do you?” He drops one hand between them, squeezing between Flint’s legs. “Yeah, you like it.”

“Shut up.” Flint says roughly.

Vane just jerks his breeches open and gets his hand down his drawers. Flint’s cock surges in his fist. He gives it a couple of deep strokes and when he stops, Flint’s hips arch towards him, still seeking more.

Vane grins again, and calmly removes his hand. He takes a step back, assessing the sight before him. Flint, slumped against the wall, shirt in disarray, breeches open, cock sticking out. If Nassau could see him now.

“Now…” Vane purrs. “Are you gonna let me fuck you, or are you gonna walk out that door and pretend this never happened?” He has a fairly good idea which one it will be, but he wants to make sure before he really starts.

Flint spits and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. He looks up at Vane. “There’ll be time enough for pretending it never happened after we fuck.”

Vane doesn’t even try to hide his grin.

* * *

He goes back to the bottle and takes a swig. “Where do you want it?”

“I think it only fair that I get to leave my scent on your bed this time.” Flint brushes by him. He reaches for his belt, pulling it all the way off and slinging it over the end of the bed. Watching him gives Vane an idea.

He starts undressing slowly, is still wearing his breeches by the time Flint’s completely nude.

Flint looks at him, raises an eyebrow.

“Get on the bed,” Vane tells him. He takes another swig of rum.

Flint does, still watching him. His cock’s still hard. All of him is paying attention here.

“On your back.” Vane says.

Flint’s expression is impossible to read, but he does it. He stretches out on his back, still watching.

Vane reaches for Flint’s belt and Flint stiffens.

“Put your arms above your head.”

This is where he’s not sure, he might lose Flint here.

And then Flint slowly raises his arms.

Vane moves closer to the bed. “Cross your wrists.”

When Flint does, he takes the belt and loops it around Flint’s wrists, binding them tightly. He ties the other end of the belt to the headboard and steps back.

Now he can look at Flint to his heart’s content. From Flint’s expression, Vane knows what he expects. He expects Vane to fuck him and then leave, maybe even leaving him tied up and having to get out of this on his own. And maybe Vane would have done that. Maybe he’ll still do it in the future.

But tonight, he wants to make Flint moan.

So he climbs on the bed and settles between Flint’s broad thighs. Lazily, Vane lifts them, resting them over his shoulder. Flint looks extremely mistrusting as he lowers his head and then his expression is altered completely into one of disbelief and pure simple want.

Vane happens to be rather good at sucking cock, though usually it’s only Jack who gets to know that. But he enjoys the feels of Flint under his hands, the thick shaft in his mouth, the way Flint’s thighs tremble as he spreads his palms over them. Vane takes him all the way down, until his nose is buried in the wiry hair at Flint’s groin.

It’s not a moan but Flint utters a noise that’s somewhere in the vicinity of that. Vane waits until he makes it again, and then he draws off, lowering Flint’s legs.

Flint looks at him with murder in his eyes.

“Did you really think I’d let you come that easily?” Vane laughs. “Didn’t take you for a fool.”

“Let you tie me up, didn’t I?” Flint’s voice is low.

Vane looks at him out of the corner of his eye. He reaches for the oil in the drawer by the bed. Smearing it over his fingers, he nudges Flint’s legs further apart.

Flint grunts as he pushes a finger inside.

“Been a while, eh, captain?”

Flint scowls and doesn’t answer.

Vane adds a second finger. Flint remains stubbornly silent as he works him open and finally Vane dubs him ready enough. Half of him doesn’t care if it’s not enough, if it’s a bit rough. Rough might suit Flint.

He’s had enough of Flint’s silence though. He smears some more oil in his palm and strokes his cock. “How badly do you want my cock inside you?”

Flint looks like he’d rather slit his own throat, or Vane’s for that matter.

Vane presses the slicked head against his hole. “I asked you a question.”

“I’m here aren’t I?” Flint nearly shouts. He strains against the belt, nearly lifting himself off the bed.

“Yeah.” Vane smirks. “You are.”

It’s enough, he supposes. It’s true. Flint’s here, in his bed. He’s always been a greedy bastard though, and so he rubs the head fully around the rim of Flint’s hole, watching him tense and shiver.

“So tell me.” Vane whispers. “How badly do you want my cock?”

Flint’s eyes narrow to slits. “Enough to lie here and spread my legs.”

Vane smiles.

He positions his cock and lifts Flint’s hips as he thrusts in. 

Flint grunts as his cock sinks deep inside him. Other than that he’s silent and so Vane keeps his gaze fixed upon Flint’s face as he fucks him. Flint glares back at him. In fucking, like in most things, he’s a raging storm of a man, and for the first time Vane considers letting Flint fuck him next time. If there is another time. He wonders what that storm would taste like, unleashed upon the world in its full force.

But for now he lets every thrust press deeper, until he knows Flint will remember this night, remember him, for a good time to come. But mostly tomorrow, whenever he sits his ass anywhere.

He reaches up to run his fingers through Flint’s hair, and then down, jerking his head back, baring his neck. Vane lowers his mouth close enough to Flint’s skin that he can smell the sweat on him, feel the heat rising from his body. He licks the long curve of Flint’s exposed throat and sets his teeth there. It’s tempting to bite, to mark Flint so that he’ll have to carry that with him as well. But Flint remains silent still and Vane draws off, releasing Flint’s hair.

He grips Flint’s hips again and sets up a slow rhythm of low shallow thrusts that almost brush the spot that Flint’s angling for, but not quite. He can take his time. He’s going to make Flint come before him.

“What the fuck are you waiting for?” Flint snarls eventually. He pulls at the belt again.

“For you and your cock to surrender first.” Vane keeps thrusting lazily, “What did you think I was waiting for?”

Flint bites his lip and turns his face away. He holds back, but in the end Vane gets his way. The relentless pattern of thrusts wears Flint down, until his cock starts leaking across his belly, and his body trembles as Vane rocks deeper inside him.

At last, long fucking last, Vane thinks, there’s a guttural moan, forced out from between Flint’s clenched teeth. He comes in an agonizing rush, spattering it across his belly. Vane keeps going and now Flint stares up at him, eyes widening.

Vane feels himself close, And as much as he wants to come in Flint’s ass, leave it dripping out of him like some whore on the beach, he did promise to leave his scent on him.

He pulls out and Flint stares at him in surprise. His lips part wordlessly as Vane fists his cock, his speed still lazy, dragging it out. And then Vane grunts, and shoots his come all over the man tied in front of him. It lands on Flint’s belly, mixing with his own mess, and on his thighs, and the tiniest bit lands on his face. Vane’s rather proud of that.

Vane sits back on his ankles, just looking at Flint. He’s going to remember this for a long time. The next time Flint’s mouthing off in the tavern. The next time he swaggers down the street, acting like he fucking owns it. The next time Eleanor gives him that look. Yes, Vane will hold this memory close.

For now, he gets off the bed and reaches for a cloth, cleaning his cock off. He tosses it in Flint’s direction when he’s done and it lands on his chest.

Vane gets dressed at a leisurely pace, and then takes Flint’s cup and the rum bottle and pour himself another drink.

Still Flint remains maddeningly silent.

Vane downs his drink and looks at him. “I could always leave you here like that. I suppose someone might find you, and make use of you before they turn you lose.” He shrugs. “Or I could come back myself and fuck you again later. Your cock would be hard again by that time, thinking of all the things I’d do to you in the dark. You’d stink by then, of course. Maybe I’d sluice you down before I put my cock in you again. Or maybe I’d like you like that.”

He lets this all linger in the air, watching Flint’s face, studying tic in his jaw, the minute expressions passing through his eyes. Part of Flint actually wants it. It’s a startling realization. The other part of him can’t wait to get away. It’ll be curious to see which part wins out in the end.

Vane goes over to the bed and looks down at him. He leans down, mouth close to Flint’s ear. “Told you I’d leave my scent on you.” He holds Flint’s gaze as he loosens the belt and pulls it loose. Dropping it on Flint’s chest, he turns his back and goes to pour more rum.

“Now get out.”

Flint barely cleans himself off at all. There’s still traces of come drying on his skin as he gets dressed. Soon as he has his boots on, he heads for the door.

Vane waits to see if there will be some parting remark, some witticism that will leave Flint thinking he’s still in charge here. But there’s nothing. When he looks up, Flint’s just standing there, with an unreadable expression on his face. He simply gives Vane a nod before he goes out into the night.

Vane drinks his rum and then stretches out on his bed. It smells like Flint and himself. He wonders how long it will be before Flint retaliates. In the meantime, Vane has things to keep himself occupied. He’s certainly not going to wait around for Flint. He’ll simply let opportunities present themselves as they come.


End file.
